


fall at your feet

by carissima



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, diner au, otp prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:52:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carissima/pseuds/carissima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry's new to the diner. he's also a little clumsy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fall at your feet

**Author's Note:**

> this is mostly me stretching out a horrible bit of writers block. apologies for everything.
> 
> it's not quite the right fit but here's the prompt: “we work together in a little diner and i swear to god, you are the fucking clumsiest person in the entire world, and i keep having to clean up after you whenever you drop a bunch of food and dishes or spill some drinks” au

Liam wipes the counter down one last time before his shift officially ends and he can disappear into the kitchen to beg dinner from Niall and he heads home to catch up on some desperately overdue coursework. His feet are aching from the double shift he just pulled, since exams start next week and he won’t be able to work as much for the next two weeks, and his hair is starting to droop, curling down over his forehead and over the collar of his wrinkled black shirt.

He rolls his shoulders back as he pushes through the kitchen door and makes a beeline for where Niall’s loading a burger with all his favourite toppings. Honestly, Liam would get down on his knees in front of him except he’s a bit worried he’d just curl up on the floor from exhaustion and spend the next 36 hours sleeping while the kitchen staff tripped over him.

“You’re my favourite person in the whole world,” he says instead, his hand reaching out to settle on Niall’s shoulder. He watches as Niall squirts a healthy dollop of ketchup on the side and turns to hand him the plate with a knowing grin.

“Yeah yeah, until Louis appears,” Niall says dryly. “Now go, eat before you pass out, yeah?”

“Thanks Nialler,” Liam mumbles around a mouthful of deliciously crunchy fries. He moves back through to the diner and settles down at a table near the back where he can drag out his crumpled notes from his back pocket and pretend to study them while he daydreams about the day he finally graduates and gets a real job where his feet don’t ache and he doesn’t go home stinking of grease.

He’s just taken the last bite of his burger when the bell rings over the door and he hears the familiar sound of Louis’ laugh, sharp and high. Liam keeps his head down, frowning as he tries to force his brain to remember acoustic theory and why he should care about it. The peace lasts about two minutes before Louis drops into the chair opposite him with a huge grin.

“Haven’t you been here long enough, Payno?” Louis reaches over to swipe the last fry off Liam’s plate. “Pulling a double then hanging around? Bit desperate if you ask me, mate.”

“It’s warmer here,” Liam reminds him, since its December and cold enough to freeze his arse off outside. And sometimes, as a poor student, he has to choose between eating and paying for heating. Something he very carefully doesn’t mention to his mum during their weekly Sunday morning calls. “And you’re late for your shift.”

Louis rolls his eyes and throws a wadded up napkin at Liam’s face, which he catches easily. “Play nice, Liam, or I won’t tell you the big news.”

Liam glances down at his notes and sighs as he folds them up and shoves them into his pocket. He’s never going to remember bloody acoustic theory anyway. “Yeah?”

“Paul hired someone new to take over from Zayn,” Louis says, leaning in close and keeping his voice low like he’s confessing some big secret. “He starts next week.”

“Well that’s good,” Liam says. “We need the extra hands around here.”

“His name’s Harry and he’s studying philosophy,” Louis tells him. “Or shit, maybe it was psychology. Or physiotherapy. Something like that anyway. He’s a second year too.”

They’re all second years, him and Niall and Louis. And Zayn, until he decided to defer for a year and go travelling instead. And most of their shifts overlapped, thanks to their uni schedules.

“I’m not rostered on until the week before Christmas, so you’ll have to tell me what he’s like,” Liam says, gathering up his stuff because it’s almost 10pm and he really does have to get home to do some work. “Just be nice to him, alright?”

“I’m always nice,” Louis says, feigning outrage before he gets to his feet and walks with Liam to the door. “Alright, well good luck and all that shit, and I’ll see you for a celebratory drink when you finish, yeah?”

“Bye Liam! Good luck!” Niall yells from the kitchen.

“Thanks Niall,” Liam yells back before he hefts his book-heavy bag onto his shoulder and flexes the hand carrying his third-hand laptop, which had somehow survived both Ruth and Nicola’s university days and was now his. “Remember, be nice to the new lad and try not to burn this place down while I’m gone, yeah?”

“One time,” Louis mumbles, but the memory of that one time Niall had been late for his shift and Louis had attempted to run the grill had been traumatising for all of them, and Niall hadn’t been late for a single shift since. “Now fuck off and be smart.”

“Thanks Lou,” Liam says with a grin before he turns up the collar on his old jacket and steps out into the bitter wind. Normally he’d run home, but the pavements are frozen and slippery, and he’s carrying more books than usual from the library so he walks the 20 minute journey home, his hands frozen solid by the time he tries to force his key into the frozen lock of his one-bed flat. He heads straight for his bedroom and changes into warmer, fresher-smelling clothes until he looks ridiculous in his five layers but his hands are finally starting to warm up. He debates making tea, but decides he can do without and pulls out his laptop, settles under his duvet and picks up where he left off on his mixing demo.

*

Louis and Niall are waiting for him when he walks out of his last exam, looking exhausted and anxious because he missed the last question on bloody acoustic theory but when they push a warm can of Strongbow into his hands and sling their arms around his shoulders, somehow it doesn’t seem so bad. They get absolutely trashed at Niall’s flat before they hit the student union and Liam ends the night in Niall’s bed with Louis’ foot in his face and Niall tucked somewhere behind him, snoring loudly.

It’s the best night he’s had in ages.

*

Liam’s head is still throbbing a little when he walks into the diner behind Niall and the smell of fresh coffee makes him gag a little.

“I’ll make us something greasy,” Niall mutters as he throws his stuff on the counter and heads for the kitchen. Liam grabs Niall’s coat and bag and disappears into the staff room to put it away, along with his own stuff before he grabs a pad and pen, shoves them into his pocket and rubs his face before he steps back out into the diner.

The first thing he notices is the guy standing by table 10, hair scraped back into a bun and sleeves rolled back to reveal a hodge podge collection of tattoos. Figuring it must be the new guy, who looks like he’s got the room under control seeing as there’s only six customers in the diner, Liam slips into the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water and shoves another one in Niall’s direction.

“Ten minutes,” Niall mutters as he breaks two eggs into a pan and turns the bacon.

“No rush, it’s not busy out there,” Liam says, patting Niall’s shoulder as he heads back into the diner and slips behind the counter to perch on one of the stools. He watches with amusement as the girl on table 2 stares at the new guy with a dreamy look on her face while she absently slurps at her milkshake.

His amusement quickly disappears when the new guy turns around and Liam realises he’s fucking gorgeous. Long hair and tattoos have never really been Liam’s type before, on boys or girls, but when they’re paired with cute dimples, broad shoulders and strong-looking thighs cased in the tightest pair of jeans Liam’s ever seen in his life, then maybe his type is expanding.

“Hi.”

Liam blinks before he stumbles to his feet and takes the hand being offered to him. “Uh, hi. I’m Liam. You must be Harry?”

“Hi Liam, nice to meet you,” Harry says slowly with a smile that lights up his face and Liam can’t stop staring.

Until he realises they’re still shaking hands and he pulls away abruptly with an embarrassed laugh. “So um, how’s it going?”

“Pretty good I think,” Harry says, ripping off the top sheet of his pad. “I’m still learning but everyone’s been really helpful.”

“Even Louis?” Liam asks doubtfully. He still remembers his first day when Louis had told him that he could take a break every half hour, until Paul had yelled at him for slacking and Liam, red-faced, had stammered out an apology. He hadn’t believed a single thing Louis told him for the next three months.

“Oh yeah, Louis has been really nice,” Harry says sincerely with a nod. It dislodges a tendril from his bun and it curls behind his ear. Harry swipes at it uselessly. “Everyone has. And I’ve been dying to meet you, since Niall and Louis talk about you all the time.”

Liam’s expression must betray his disbelief because Harry leans forward, his face radiating sincerity as he reaches out and places his hand on Liam’s arm. “I was half-convinced you couldn’t be real and they were teasing me by making you up.”

“Um, no, I’m definitely real,” Liam says faintly. He’s desperately trying not to flex his arm where he can feel the warmth of Harry’s hand through his shirt. He can see a huge anchor tattoo on Harry’s wrist.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Harry says quietly. When Liam glances up, Harry’s smiling at him and Liam’s heart skips a goddamn beat. “Well, I better hand this order in before the customer starts complaining.”

That particular customer happens to be staring at Harry’s arse, so Liam’s pretty sure they won’t be complaining any time soon but he nods and pulls his own pad out, leaving Harry to disappear through the kitchen door as Liam heads for a customer who looks ready to order.

He and Niall scoff down an entire plate of greasy fried food while Harry frowns at them through the kitchen door window.

“What’s up with him?” Liam asks around a mouthful of eggs. “Do you think I should get back out there?”

“Nah, he’s just a health nut,” Niall says, putting his knife and fork down and patting his belly, his plate clean. “Comes in every shift with a different fruit or veggie drink. He does yoga and shit.”

Liam stares mournfully at his fork, piled high with bacon and beans and a bit of egg yolk, and places it carefully back on his plate before he pushes it away and sighs. “Well, I should get back out there anyway. I’ve just had two weeks off, it’s hardly fair to leave him out there alone.”

“Yeah, with all those thousands of customers lining the streets to come in and sample my delicacies,” Niall says with a snort.

“One day, Nialler,” Liam says with a grin before he drops his plate in the washer and heads back through the door.

Harry’s sitting behind the counter, tapping his pen against the register idly. Liam barely has a moment to admire the way his shirt stretches across his shoulders, even unbuttoned as it is to Harry’s chest, showing what Liam thinks are some bird tattoos and what looks like a huge butterfly.

“Sorry,” Liam says with a rueful smile. “We uh, kind of celebrated the end of my exams yesterday so we’re hanging a little.”

“Oh, no worries,” Harry says brightly before he springs to his feet and waves his arm at a customer. Liam bemusedly watches him stroll over to the customer before he comes back with an empty glass for a refill. Liam’s a little too busy watching Harry’s smooth, graceful movements to see it coming.

On his way back to the customer, a full glass of coke in one hand, Harry somehow manages to trip over a table leg and goes sprawling out, coke flying through the air in a fluid arc. Liam just stares as Harry ends up on his hands and knees and the entire diner falls silent, broken only when Liam hears a huge guffaw behind him from Niall.

It spurs him into action and he grabs a cloth from under the counter and races towards Harry, who’s rubbing his elbow, still kneeling in a puddle of coke.

“Are you okay?” Liam asks as he reaches down to help Harry to his feet, his gaze running down Harry’s body to check for – well, he’s not sure really but Harry looks mostly fine. He doesn’t even look embarrassed, Liam realises after a moment. He’s just smiling at himself like this happens all the time. “Look, go get changed and I’ll clean this up, yeah?”

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, brushing uselessly at his shirt. It’s drenched and clinging to Harry’s body in a way that Liam thinks should probably be illegal, especially since Harry’s a lot leaner and toned than Liam first thought, and yeah, that’s definitely a butterfly on his belly.

“Its fine,” Liam assures him. “Just make sure you’re alright, yeah?”

Harry nods and Liam bends down to mop up what he can of the spilled drink while he apologises to the customer who is, thankfully, far enough away that he wasn’t splashed by Harry’s trip. He fills the free refill, offers the customer 10% off their bill and grabs a mop and broom to clean up the shattered glass and rest of the drink.

By the time Harry appears, Liam’s got a CAUTION: WET sign out and seated three more customers. He’s taking orders and waves at Harry to tell him it’s under control before the evening rush begins.

Then there’s barely a moment to stop as he takes orders, brings out food, collects plates and grabs the card machine for payments. Harry’s shift ends before his, and he manages a distracted wave as he heads out the door before he’s being waved over to take another order.

At the end of the night, when he finally changes the sign around to CLOSED and leans back against it, he’s more tired than he remembers being in ages and Niall’s pushing a beer into his hands.

“So how did you like Harry then?” Niall asks as they wipe down the tables together.

“He seems nice,” Liam says noncommittally. “The customers like him.”

“Total flirt,” Niall agrees with a grin. “Really helps when he drops their food all over them.”

“Oh,” Liam says, looking up in surprise. “Is that a thing then? I thought maybe tonight was a one-off.”

“Harry is the clumsiest fucker I’ve ever met,” Niall tells him. He flicks his cloth over towards Liam, who catches it and drops it into his tray as they make their way back to the kitchen. “But one flash of those dimples and customers are tipping him double. I think they feel sorry for him or something.”

“You sound jealous, mate,” Liam says cheekily, laughing as Niall scowls and tries to trip him up but misses, and ends up catching his foot on the kitchen door instead.

“I’m not jealous!” Niall yells through the door, rubbing his foot as Liam dumps the tray in the sink. His gaze slides over to where the schedule for the week is pinned on the wall, and he can see he’s working with Harry all this week on the evening shift. He starts whistling a jaunty tune that he doesn’t recognise, filling the sink with hot soapy water and begins rinsing out the dishcloths.

*

Harry’s waving at him when Liam walks into work the next day. His shirt looks even tighter than the one he’d been wearing the day before, and he’s got a few tendrils curling down over his collar where they’ve escaped his neat bun. Liam shoves his hands in his pockets and flushes as he walks over to where Harry’s sitting at the counter.

“Hey,” he says in greeting. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good, thanks,” Harry says with a beaming smile. “Pretty empty in here today.”

Liam glances over his shoulder to see only one table is occupied, and he recognises the customer as a regular who likes to fill up on the free coffee refills. He dumps his backpack under the counter and pulls up the bar stool next to Harry.

“So what do you study then?” Liam asks a bit awkwardly.

“Philosophy and sociology.” Harry waves his hand over the neatly printed notes he’s got hidden behind the counter. “To my mum’s despair. She thinks I should have studied law or physiotherapy, you know, something useful.”

“Oh god, my mum too,” Liam says, rolling his eyes a little. “She doesn’t mind that I’m studying music engineering, but she’d definitely worry less if I’d stayed at home and done an apprenticeship or something.”

Harry’s hand rests on his shoulder, warm and solid for a moment and Liam feels himself swaying in towards Harry for a moment before Harry’s hand drops away and Liam catches himself with a faint blush.

“So music engineering, huh.” Harry’s green eyes skim over Liam’s face, leaving him feeling too warm. “That sounds interesting. What kind of things do you study?”

By the time their shift is over, Liam’s learned who Harry’s favourite bands are, even though he’s never heard of half of them and he’s got Harry’s iPod in his hand as they lock up, with Harry’s assurances that he should listen to it and let Harry know what he thinks about Harry’s musical tastes. The iPod is bright pink with a glittery sticker on the back in the shape of a giant S, but Harry doesn’t seem to be embarrassed at all. Liam’s also learned that Harry’s got a sister, he’s in RocSoc but mostly for the mates he’s made there rather than the music and he’s got a weird penchant for telling jokes that end up making him laugh hard enough that he can barely get the punchline out.

Liam’s kind of totally in love with him.

He falls asleep listening to The 1975 with Harry’s pink iPod clutched in his fist under the covers.

*

“Did you like the songs?” Harry all but yells at him when he walks into the diner the next day.

Liam shakes the rain from his hair and tugs his earphones out. His face feels sharp with the pain of walking out of the cold and into someplace warm and he winds his scarf from around his neck to drop it onto the counter. The diner’s empty again so he pulls the iPod out and hands it back to Harry with a smile.

“Yeah, I really liked them,” Liam says honestly. He’s always loved music, any kind of music, even the classical stuff his dad likes to listen to now and again, and he’s always been kind of fascinated by what other people like. Harry’s taste runs to acoustic guitars and simply melodies, with lyrics that haunt or surprise. It’s a huge contrast to the Harry Liam sees in front of him, with his bright yellow hair band tying back his hair and the tattoos he’s hiding under his shirt, which he’d shown Liam last night. The Harry before him is a cacophony of styles that intimidate him, if he’s being honest. But the music that speaks to Harry is simple, and heartfelt.

“I knew you would,” Harry says confidently, but Liam doesn’t miss the way Harry fusses with his hair as he says it. He wonders if it’s a nervous tic or habit, or perhaps just coincidence.

At the end of the night, Liam’s got Harry’s number programmed into his phone and he’s watched Harry nearly tumble over twice, both times over absolutely nothing. And both times, when Harry’s looked up at him with a slightly embarrassed grin and smoothed his hands over his thighs absently, Liam’s felt his heart flop over painfully as he accepts that he’s got a horribly inappropriate crush on Harry.

*

Liam heads home for Christmas, to blissful central heating and his mum’s cooking. He gets spoiled rotten on Christmas Day, with new winter clothes, a new iPhone and enough money in his wallet that he almost cries with relief. He puts the money away, determined not to spend it during the rest of his break and he doesn’t say no when his mum sends him back to uni in his old red Fiat with eight dishes to put in his old freezer and a promise to bring the plates back on his next trip home.

He’s had a few texts from Louis and Niall, although Louis’ are less than complimentary at first because he forgot to text him on his birthday and Louis holds a grudge worse than anyone Liam’s ever met before. And he has two older sisters.

But he’s had regular texts from Harry, who alternates between sending him jokes, texting him random photos that Liam doesn’t understand – like the black and white picture of a fence that Liam had stared at for almost an hour, trying to figure out why Harry had sent it to him or what he was missing before he eventually had to give up – and random questions like what Liam’s favourite Christmas movie was.

Apparently Die Hard wasn’t an acceptable choice though, and he’d had to promise Harry he’d watch Love Actually when it was on BBC1 on Boxing Day.

It really wasn’t that bad, and his mum had started crying halfway through and didn’t stop even when the film ended, but Liam figured the movie was just another little jigsaw piece in the complicated puzzle that was Harry.

*

January is always busy at the diner where December is slow, and all four of them end up on a late Friday night shift for the first time. Niall’s cooking in the kitchen while Louis tries to distract him and pretend he’s too busy to serve, while Harry and Liam run around the diner, trying to keep on top of everything.

Well, Liam tries to keep on top of everything while he does his best to ignore the winks Harry keeps sending him or the way Harry bends over the tables, pulling soft denim tight across his arse, or the way Harry’s hand seems to linger on his hip as they squeeze pass each other on the way to take another order.

Because he’s definitely imagining it. There’s no way Harry’s flirting with him in the diner full of people. They’ve barely caught up since the Christmas break, as new classes have kept Liam busy when he’s not working and Harry’s texts have been more infrequent.

Liam’s just turning away from a table with their order tucked into his back pocket when he sees Harry coming towards him. He’s moving too fast, his arms pinwheeling comically and Liam realises he’s about to faceplant on the floor right in front of him.

He moves without thinking, his arms reaching out to grab hold of Harry except Harry’s heavier than Liam expects him to be, and Harry dips dangerously low in Liam’s arms before Liam plants his feet and tightens his grip. They’re frozen, and it takes Liam a second to realise that his face is inches away from Harry’s, and if this was a movie, it’d definitely be the part where they kiss. He’s breathing heavily with adrenaline and the weight of holding Harry up, and he can’t help the way his gaze flickers down to Harry’s mouth, his lips parted slightly as he stares up at Liam.

There’s a moment, a very real moment, where Liam wants to just close the gap between them and kiss Harry and see what happens.

Except then reality kicks in and Liam remembers they’ve got a diner full of people watching them, and he really is going to drop Harry in a second, despite all the weight training he’s been doing recently. So he leans back and helps Harry to find his balance before he lets go and ducks his head, making straight for the kitchen and almost smacking Louis in the face with the door.

“Mind out, Payno,” Louis mutters, rubbing his nose and glaring at Liam like he wasn’t just pressing his face up against the window in the door.

“You know, you could come out and help us like you’re paid to,” Liam snaps back, shoving the order at Niall before he storms back out into the diner, embarrassed and afraid and wishing the ground would just swallow him right up.

But his life has never been a fairytale, and he has to put up with Harry sending him looks that he can’t read, and customers applauding him on his quick moves, and Louis muttering angry insults at him all night until he slips out five minutes early, leaving Niall to lock up for once.

He runs home, switches off his phone and after a fitful night’s sleep, he calls in sick for the first time ever.

*

When he does eventually go back into work, mostly because he needs the money, he spends most of his time in the kitchen with Niall, or doing his coursework behind the counter. He avoids Harry’s gaze, and eventually Louis sidles up to him with a raisin and biscuit Yorkie, which Liam takes for the peace offering it is.

Slowly, things start to get back to normal and Liam even manages to offer Harry a tiny smile when he walks into the diner, a full week after The Incident.

The January rush has started to slow down after the winter break and there’s only three tables occupied. Liam walks around with the coffee pot, offering free refills before he pours himself a cup.

It’s a bit of a surprise when Harry pours himself a cup and plonks himself down next to Liam at the counter, his dimples flashing as he leans in close enough that Liam could breathe in his scent if he wanted to.

“Hey,” Harry murmurs. “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” Liam murmurs back. He gives into temptation and nudges Harry’s hip. “Sorry. For you know. Being uh, well, I mean I’m just sorry, I guess.”

Harry nods like he completely understands, which just makes Liam feel even worse. “I missed talking to you.”

Liam stares down at his hands where they’re folded on the counter and he manages an embarrassed shrug. “I’m an idiot.”

“Hey, no you’re not,” Harry says, sounding indignant. “Really, it’s okay Liam. I’m just glad you’re talking to me again.”

Harry then spends the next half hour filling Liam in on everything he’s missed in the past week, telling a particularly long-winded story about his mate Nick and the guy he’d tried to pick up on Saturday night, only to discover it was someone he’d already slept with in the first year who had a weird foot fetish that Nick wasn’t into at all. Liam was still chuckling when Harry picked up his pad and wandered down to take an order, glancing over his shoulder towards Liam and grinning when he saw Liam hadn’t stopped laughing yet.

There’s a sense of déjà vu when Harry walks past the counter to drop the order in with Niall when he stumbles, and Liam’s automatically reaching for him before he can stop himself.

“You’re the clumsiest person I’ve ever met,” Liam says before he realises that Harry’s slid his arms around Liam’s neck and is grinning up at him.

“I keep throwing myself at you,” Harry murmurs, his eyes dancing as he very deliberately seems to fixate his gaze on Liam’s mouth, which turns dry very quickly. “Literally. And either I’m really bad at this, or you’re not interested.”

Liam opens his mouth to say something but whatever it was, it gets stuck in his parched throat.

“You see, you’ve got these strong arms that can easily hold my weight, Liam,” Harry continues blithely. “Makes a boy wonder what else those arms could do. How long they could hold me up. And you’ve got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. Don’t tell Niall though, because he’ll stop sneaking me fries if he overhears.”

“I didn’t know you ate fries,” Liam says inanely.

Harry laughs up at him, and he swears Harry’s eyes sparkle. “Take me to dinner and I’ll eat the greasiest, fattiest choice on the menu,” he promises. “Or I can take you to dinner. I don’t mind either way, as long as we’re eating someplace nice and I can play footise under the table with you and see if that makes you blush.”

Liam feels his cheeks heat on cue.

Harry unravels an arm from around his neck and pokes Liam’s cheek gently, before he rubs his thumb over Liam’s bottom lip, his eyes widening as Liam closes his lips around it, and sucks gently.

“Oh my god,” Harry mutters, his green eyes darkening and making Liam’s heart pound a little harder in his chest. “Liam.”

“I can make pasta,” Liam says, around Harry’s thumb sliding in and out of his mouth. “The sauce comes from a jar but it’s pretty good.”

Harry’s expression looks pained for a moment before he glances down at where his thumb is still pressed into Liam’s wet mouth. “Yeah. I love pasta.”

“Tomorrow night,” Liam blurts out. He knows they’re both off rota tomorrow, and Harry’s staring at him like he’d like to drag Liam off to the staff room and test Liam’s strength against the door. Speaking of which, he straightens up a little and Harry stands on his own two feet, but he doesn’t step back, instead he crowds a little closer into Liam’s space.

“Tomorrow night,” Harry agrees.

A loud cough pulls them out of their bubble and Liam realises a customer is staring at them in amusement, holding up her cup with raised eyebrows.

“Uh, sorry, I’ll just grab the pot,” Liam says, flustered. Harry finally steps back, and this time Liam definitely doesn’t imagine the way Harry’s hand lingers on his hip or the brush of Harry’s arm against his as he heads into the kitchen, leaving Liam on refill duty.

It’s possible that he spills a bit of coffee on the way back because he catches Harry staring at him dopily through the kitchen door window. But he’s too busy grinning back at him to notice.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find my new tumblr [here](http://lovedyouless.tumblr.com)


End file.
